The Heroes of the New Age
by StarArcher
Summary: This is a story of the heroes of the New Age of Norrath, when it has merged with Earth. Madness ensues. Read and review... you know you want to!


The Modern Age of Earth is gone, swept away within a dark void of obscurity. Some among the populace still cling to the life they once had. Some, like those within this story, have chosen to accept the world as it is now. This is a story of the Age of Mergings.  
  
The Age of Mergings began very abruptly, on a day now lost to time, its records having been destroyed nearly five years ago. All that now remains is the memory within the minds of us old enough to remember it.  
  
As near as we can tell, the cause of the Great Planar Rift that merged the worlds is a small Dark Elven sect who were trying to release the energies of the Plane of Hate onto their planet. From our figuring, they misread the spell, and opened our home plane, the Plane of Man.  
  
There are those among the races who follow the disciplines defined by heroes of old. This is the story of us, the mighty among heroes, the Heroes of the New Age.  
  
~~~~~Thus ends the prologue... Now, on to the first chapter.~~~~~  
  
I am what is called a warrior. This is the name given to the discipline within my heart. The Elder Council of my home town decided upon this, and sent me out into the world to find my trainings. This was five years ago.  
  
Thousands of foes have seen the wicked keen of my blades, and I have grown within my own right, to be no longer a warrior. I have been recognized by kings, and become that which is a Warlord. The events to follow are not the story of my rise as a Warlord, but as a Hero of Legend.  
  
~~~~~Returnings~~~~~  
  
I returned, after five years of hard adventuring, to my home. But this place was, in truth, not my home any longer. Actually, it no longer existed.  
  
As I began to pass familiar paths and roads, something in the back of my mind told me that something was amiss. Full sixty-five circles of discipline have taught me to trust in my instincts. I drew forth my weapons, those trusty broadswords that have carried me through my trials, since I recovered them from their resting place.  
  
As I spotted the ruin from a distance, I broke into a full sprint. Upon reaching the still-smoldering wreckage of my town, my body went numb. My armor, normally light in its enchantment, hung upon my shoulders like the weight of eternity, My blades clattered to the ground, as I followed, my legs crumpling beneath me in sorrow.  
  
No sooner than this happened, than I heard a scuffling noise. Something was moving around, and growling slightly. Gnolls, judging by the signs of the recent battles fought here. Gnoll corpses and human corpses littered the streets nearby. I quickly took back to my feet, snapping my weapons back into my grip. I threw my head back, and screamed as a battle rage overtook me, causing my blind charge into the first of the living gnolls I saw. I tore through them, they posed no challenge to me. I strode through the ruins, spreading death to any gnolls I saw around. I searched among the corpses, looking for the friends I had left behind, and for my parents, none of which I found. I did, however, find a survivor. One of the Elders was alive, barely. I began to bind his wounds, trying desperately to keep him alive until I could find out what happened. Finally, he came to, groggily, and spoke.  
  
"Is this the face of our youth I see?" His eyes looked pleadingly at me, hoping I was really one of our villagers, and not another gnoll.  
  
"Yes, Elder. I was once a youth of this village.... the warrior you sent to the world, to learn my heart's path. I return to you now, a Warlord in your service. Elder, I am yours to command." I bowed before him, and he knew I spoke true, his eyes reading me as they were known for.  
  
"I see. What is the name you have chosen for yourself, your Traveller's Name?" The Traveller's Name is the custom for our village. When we leave, we become someone new, and it is within this custom that we take on a new name, that will be left behind when we leave the many roads of adventure behind us.  
  
"Crystor, Elder. Crystor Adralis."  
  
"Very well, young Crystor, listen to what I say. You are trained as a warlord, forged in the heat of battle. But, in truth, the path of the warrior is not yours to walk. We misjudged you, for no one path alone is yours to walk. Your path is indeed the Road of Many Paths, the True Hero's Way. Thus, do I strip you of your title, Warlord, and rename you Crystor Adralis, Hero." His words were cryptic in their meaning. I began to change his bandages, hoping that would help. I thought perhaps he was rambling in pain. I decided to question the issue.  
  
"What are you talking about, Elder. What is this Hero's Way you speak of? I don't understand..." I wasn't able to finish my sentence, he cut me off.  
  
"The Path of the True Hero is the Road of Many Paths. By it's name, it is defined. Within those many paths, are all paths of all disciplines. It is your destiny to walk all these paths, and reclaim their hold in this world. I charge you now to seek the ultimate trials of each path, and find the two blades that were crafted to hold the essences of the Thirteen Heroes... Wait! Crystor, allow me to examine your blades. They seem a perfectly matched pair."  
  
I offered him my blades, and he studied them a moment, before handing them back to me, a rejoicing look upon his face. "These blades you bear, they are the very blades I speak of! How did you... No, nevermind, it matters not how you recieved them. Suffice to say that those blades can hold the reforged essences of the Epic weapons of old." He paused for a moment, and coughed, bringing a fair amount of blood up.  
  
"Seek you the tasks, and when you have completed them, find then the High Court of the Koada'Vie. They may still posess the knowledge of how to combine their essence. May they aid you better than a forgetful old man. Remember, seek the weapons, that you may bring them before the court."  
  
With that, the Elder closed his eyes, never to open them again.  
  
Looking around at my one-time home, I thought about it's change. This place was once a fairly large area of cities and towns back on Old Earth. Now, on Norrath, it is little more than a small hamlet, surrounded by farms. So many people left it, gone to become the Earth men, the believers in the ways of the old world.  
  
Leaving the town was as leaving a cemetary, dark and foreboding. I hoped never to return to this place, if I could help it. I decided the past would be allowed to die. My future had only just begun.  
  
~~~~~The trials now stand finished...~~~~~  
  
One year later, I stood triumphant outside of the gates of Felwithe, bearing those great weapons of power. As I approached the gates, the guards nodded at me approvingly. Oftentimes, Elves and Humans are apprehensive of one another, but now there are few races upon the world, even the Iksar included, who view me as less than warmly recieved.  
  
I made my way unharassed through the city, and the castle, all the way to the door leading to the High Court. Only when I reached there did the guards attempt to stop me, but they were cleared away with no more than a quick glance.  
  
I burst through the doors, to find an unexpected welcome among the Court.  
  
"Greetings to you, Hero Crystor. We have been anticipating your arrival, news of your deeds has spread quickly indeed. We hold the knowledge of what you seek to do, and how to accomplish it. The thirteen weapons of power you bear must be reforged to their essences. We have researched the ritual necessary for this, but the final task is yours alone to complete. "The spirits of the ancient heroes dwell within these weapons. You must defeat them on their terms in order to harness the essence into your blades. If you fail, we do not know what will happen. Will you accept this task willingly, knowing that any result is uncertain at best?"  
  
I nodded my head. "If this is how it must be, then so be it. I am ready."  
  
With that, the ritual began. One by one, the weapons were placed within a stand, with one of the members of the High Court behind it. As the weapons were placed, the Courtiers would chant, and the weapons would glow. When all began to glow, I stood in the center of it all, my blades ready to refocus the energies, and my mind ready for whatever challenges would come.  
  
A/N and Disclaimer: Of this madness, I own the plotline, and the characters. The characters are based on friends of mine. Also, I don't own Norrath, or anything else entailed therein. That's all property of Verant Interactive, and Sony Online Entertainment, so please, don't sue me... I'm just a poor boy, from a poor family... argh, no more Bohemian Rhapsody. I'm really just poor myself. Until next time, read and review... Thank you! ~Gryff 


End file.
